


Sometime

by BeignetBenny



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn, In Trousers - Fandom
Genre: And thats on "And they lost their love", Canonical Character Death, Character Study, I'mma be real with you I started this in 2017, M/M, Marvin Character Study, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:42:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24050776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeignetBenny/pseuds/BeignetBenny
Summary: Marvin wouldn't say he's a paranoid man, but his dreams have a tendency to show he has every reason to be
Relationships: Whizzer Brown/Marvin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	Sometime

**Author's Note:**

> I was just trying to get back into writing because like "brain empty no thoughts" and then I accidentally stumbled upon this little oneshot I started back in 2017. It's kinda a downer, but hey aren't most character studies?

_“I think it’s time.”_

_Sharp breath._

_Sit Up._

Marvin wouldn’t say he’s a paranoid man. The result of an overactive imagination that plagued him into adulthood. Dreams were weird like that. At first it was Trina. It started when she was pregnant. Not when they got married or started dating like his psychiatrist had assumed. Mendel made some elaborate sob story that made the dreams seem like a coping mechanism. As if Marvin was scared of his own death so he dreamt of the ones around him passing. Yet, that was never it.

He’d hear those words and look. Trina would always be lying in their bed, hands delicately placed atop each other over her chest. Her age shifted throughout the dream. Marvin would sit beside her, albeit not by his own will, but he was there. She wore a sleeping gown that was covered in gaudy flowers that always looked to choke her. He never forced himself to wake up with her. He’d watch for a little, her last words interesting him but his heart never intervening. 

“I’ve wanted this for so long.” Her delicate voice would say. There were never any tears, she had been done crying. 

Marvin would either look up from her hand or look back down at her after being interested in counting the titles on the bookshelf behind her. Usually counting lulled him into another dream. But it was the times he was curious that he sat through it all.

“I’m not scared.” A hand would reach for his. Morphing from boney to delicate. Manicured to bloodied. Soft to skeletal. “I think it’s time.”

_Sharp breath._

_Sit up._

Then he would be in his bed again. Trina asleep, her body turned towards Marvin and her arms reaching out for the warmth that he had created.

Then there was Jason. Marvin didn’t speak to Mendel about those. Those started as soon as he held Jason in his arms. 

The body wouldn’t morph as much, as if Trina’s own date was more volatile. Jason looked like he was in his early teens, or at least no older than fifteen. The room was white and sterile. Marvin could feel the plastic barrier on everything his dream state touched. It wasn’t Jason that was on the bed. No, he sat on a chair beside Marvin’s own spot. Jason’s eyes were sunken in, collapsed in on himself on the chair. His knees were pulled up to his chest. A small unfinished chess game sat on the dinner tray beside him.

“I think it’s time, dad.” 

_Sharp breath._

_Sit up._

Marvin never wanted to risk seeing more. After those he’d walk to Jason’s nursery and just hold him. The kid hated being held by his father and only made the crying worse. As he got older and the dream kept coming back, he’d simply creep into the room. Sometimes he’d re-tuck his son into the bed once a rogue leg escaped the covers or if pillows had been tossed across the room in Trina’s flight to get Jason to bed.

Then, there was Whizzer. Those started the first night he met him. Passed it off as a paranoia that the act could kill his career and moved on. He could still feel Whizzer’s mouth around him the first time he heard it.

_“I think it’s time, Marv.”_

_Sharp breath._

_Release._

His fingers remained curled into Whizzer’s brunette hair. Strays would flop down over his eyes as his gaze shifted upward, watching as Marvin would tidy himself up. The stars would fade from his vision with minor glimpses into what would become their home. A one bedroom in the Upper West Side. A hospital off of Columbus and 59th. His own home with Trina and Jason and favorite food tucked in the pocket between the heights and where the pretentious bastards would call the “Suburbs.” The closest thing you could get to in the city without leaving the island. Then back to the dark alleyway. Cher’s riffs leaking out of the brick walls and a splash of neon light reflecting off of Whizzer’s soft lips.

“What did you say?” Marvin had asked as his heart rate returned to normal.

“Just that I thought you’d have lasted longer.”

He would dust off his knees, gravel would cling to the italian fabric. He’d run a hand through his hair, the stain on his lapel became increasingly obvious. His belt was loosened but in the end there was no use.

Without thinking, Marvin had offered to have the outfit dry cleaned. Whizzer cracked a smile that’s purpose wasn’t exclusively to mock him or lure him in. It was surprised, delicate, polite.

_Genuine._

Whizzer had agreed and invited Marvin into his apartment. A one bedroom in the Upper West Side. He had no reason to ever leave.

The dreams would continue in a similar vein to Trina’s. It would always be time. Yet, Whizzer was immune to time. He would look as young as the day they met. Scratches would cling to his knees, his lips swollen and wet. He was ageless. Frozen in that one moment. Then Marvin would wake up and roll over. Reality was often similar. Bruises darkening as they crawl down his chest. His hair would be pushed back instead of the perfect coiffe to disguise his one imperfection near the top of his head. His arms and legs were splayed, one leg escaped from the cover, an arm dangling off the side. Frozen.

_“I think it’s time.”_

Time for what? To fight? To screw like a couple of animals in heat? To lie? To play? To lose?

To watch his lover collapse in a measly game of Racquetball?

To sit in the hospital for days at a time?

To watch his love waste away day by day?

To hold his son’s bar mitzvah in the ICU wing in a hospital with a window that’s view was Central Park South?

“I think it’s time.” A chess game cut short when the nurses come in.

“I think it’s time.” A kiss pressed to his forehead followed with the suggestion of taking a walk back to their apartment because it’s nice out.

“I think it’s time.” Charlotte whispered outside Whizzer’s room.

_“I think it’s time.”_

_“I think it’s time.”_

_“I think it’s time.”_

_**"I think it's time."** _

“For what?” Marvin hadn’t meant for the question to shoot out like a snake’s venom. His hand gripped tighter onto Whizzer’s as his lover’s only response was the slouching of his head against his lover’s shoulder.

“For what, Whizzer?” Marvin asked again, his voice softer, but more direct. A sob crawled it’s way into his throat and clung there. He couldn’t convince himself to speak again.

Whizzer gripped tighter. It was no match for Marvin’s own, but it was the strongest grip he had felt in weeks. Whizzer’s eyes were closed, but his chest continued to rise and fall.

“I’m not scared. You shouldn’t be either.”

Marvin opened his mouth in hopes of something of an insurance would make its way out. An insistence that he would see him again tomorrow. _You’re getting stronger. You’re getting better._

“I thought it’d be more graceful… But I wouldn’t change it.” His head got heavier on Marvin’s shoulder. His grip lessened, instead resulting in a gentle rubbing of his thumb over Marvin’s knuckles.

“Don’t fucking leave me.” Marvin choked out as tears breached the surface. Of course the last thing he would say to the love of his life would be selfish. All Marvin could do was be selfish in Whizzer’s final moments. _“Don’t fucking leave me.”_

Whizzer’s thumb stopped, settled in the valley between the knuckles of Marvin’s ring and middle finger. His chest still rose, but his shoulders relaxed. A small smile played at his lips.

“I think it’s time.” The crash carts entered the room as he was ushered out of it.

It took ten more months until he heard again. It was a dream, his apartment on the Upper West Side. The bedroom curtains were open and the bed was unmade. His lover sat at the head of the bed, hair mussed, lips swollen, bite marks up his throat, panting as if he had done this and only this. He was waiting. Whizzer was waiting.

He reached his hand out and the sun danced over his fingers.

_“I think it’s time."_

_Deep breath._

_Lay down._


End file.
